


Complete

by stephanericher



Series: 31 Days of Horoscopes [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:00:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9497177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: 1/27: Whatever you've been trying to accomplish over the past several months could break loose just the way you want it to today, Aquarius. It could come as a surprise and resemble a logjam that finally gives way. Nonetheless, this is your good fortune, and you and those who have been in the trenches with you deserve a few accolades. After it's all set in stone, go out and celebrate. You've earned it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> the one where the bad guys win and set up shop in the imperial palace
> 
> this 31-day challenge is based on the wonderful [31-Day Horoscope Challenge by @icandrawamoth](http://archiveofourown.org/series/621022). Simply: read your horoscope for the day from horoscope.com (Aquarius for me); use it as a writing prompt.

There might still be time to persuade Hux not to repair the weather control system. It’s gotten farther and farther down on his to-do list as more immediate concerns arise, too quickly for him to finish them all and get back to hiring contractors and overseeing the preparations—but he’s loosening his grip on some political matters, and getting even more brutally efficient with the others, so it won’t be long.

The late summer sun will still come into this side of the palace at this angle; gravity dictates it (more or less). Ren will still have to shade his eyes when his bare chest is bathed in the rays of light as their hue turns from the color of hot sand to the color of sweet winter citrus. But this hemisphere’s summers won’t be so raw and hot; his hair won’t be sticky with sweat and clinging to his neck under his helmet before he reaches the foot of the palace steps. The undergrowth on the highest sublevel won’t be quite so full of green—it will still be drenched with blood and oil and raw energy from growing wild for so long. If there’s less rain it won’t seep down below, won’t crash through the gutters like tidal waves all the time. That’s the kind of thing Hux hates, but he’s trapped in the senate building all day and stays in the palace all night and whenever he has an excuse to get away he goes back up in a spaceship. So really, the weather shouldn’t make that much of a difference to him.

But it does, the few seconds in the day he has to stare outside of the viewscreen and when it’s been raining three days in a row Ren ends up hearing about it when Hux can’t sleep because of the sound of rain against glass. Ren likes it; it makes it easier to fall asleep when there’s more to hear than his own thoughts and the sound of Hux’s breathing, but Hux is too used to the silence of space to get comfortable with it now (Ren calls him old for it and Hux just glares at him before he gets up and does more work until he falls asleep at his desk and walks around stiff the next morning because he really isn’t getting any younger).

Ren’s all clean by now; the water is cool and refreshing and everything this high up is calm. He hangs his head back until can see Coruscant upside-down, the tops of high-rises and office buildings, most of them fifty years behind in architecture trends. This planet is a relic, a product of its times, but a very fine one. It’s easy to see the things Hux wants to grab onto and drag into the future. Ren sighs and closes his eyes, tilting his head upright again.

The front door hisses open. That would be Hux himself, back before sunset for once, drenched in smug satisfaction Ren doesn’t even have to search for to feel. Interesting. Despite that, Hux is grumbling already, probably about Ren’s clothing being strewn about.

“I thought I doubled the cleaning droid’s schedule.”

“You did,” Ren calls. “But it came by the second time before I got back.”

He can feel Hux’s annoyance, vibrant and fresh in the Force around him—even now, he lets this bother him. Ren smiles and leans back; through his eyelids he can sense the sun’s bright light. Hux pulls aside the door; it rolls in a purr across its track. Ren reaches out with the Force, pressing at Hux’s mind to just get in and join him, and he feels Hux’s annoyance at being contacted this way because it’s so much effort and he’s just showing off his powers, and Ren supposes he’ll just have to take that as an affirmation. To that, he gets a flash of disgruntled affection. He opens his eyes, shielding them with a hand, to see Hux, minus shoes and hat, in the doorway.

Hux begins to undo his belt, methodical; he pulls it slowly from the loops molded around it and hangs it on an empty towel rack. Next come the pants; again he takes care to fold and hang them and Ren has made remarks before about how not-arousing this kind of striptease is (worth it to say for the look on Hux’s face) but that’s not really the point right now, and nonetheless he’s glad to see Hux’s body emerge, smooth skin clear and pale like the hull of a new star destroyer and slick with summer sweat. He drinks in the view, the delicate dexterity of Hux’s fingers pulling down trouser socks and worming their way inside buttonholes, moving down his torso in an exactly-metered rhythm.

And then he’s free, pale feet crossing the damp tile and hands pressing against the lip of the tub. He steps in, one leg and then two—even in this weather, he finds the cold a little unpleasant, and Ren takes this moment to pull Hux into his lap, to press Hux’s back to his chest. The hair that brushes the nape of his neck is beginning to curl; the humidity is wearing down both on Hux’s willpower and his hair products. Hux makes a disgruntled sort of sound—he’s still sweaty and grimy and unused to the water but Ren doesn’t care. The smell of the sweat and the texture of his hair and the way he holds himself half-stiff, bracing his body against the temperature, may be the parts of him he wishes to be rid of but Ren enjoys them all the more for that.

“Trying day with the senate?”

“Hardly,” says Hux, half-twisting to look Ren in the eye. “The charter’s been finalized; we can finally begin a proper session tomorrow.”

That explains the early arrival and the satisfaction; he’s been trying to get the senate under control for weeks (reestablishing an old institution like the Imperial Senate is apparently not very easy or quick, even when all parties have agreed on an end goal).

“Congratulations, then,” says Ren.

“Thank you,” Hux says. Then, “Did you have a difficult time playing in the wreckage?”

Ren hums. “Didn’t find anything new.”

Hux’s back is stiff, even for him, even for the temperature of the water. Ren’s fingers find his shoulders, beginning to search for knots under the skin. He could reach out with the Force to find them but Hux doesn’t like it when he does that (even if it would be more efficient). He contemplates doing it anyway, but then he presses up against the first one, midway between Hux’s shoulder blades.

“You should get more exercise.”

“How? By running around the underbelly of the planet with you?”

Ren almost laughs—it’s impossible to picture Hux down there willingly, with anything but a look of absolute disgust on his face, trying to save his precious boots from the pervasive humidity and spilled oil and the blood of the half-eaten creatures that litter the ground.

“You could try it.”

“I have a galaxy to manage.”

“Making excuses?”

His hands are moving lower on Hux’s back; the knots aren’t worse than usual but there are more of them, too many—why stiffness is so requisite in the world of politics Ren does not know, but all things considered he doesn’t really want to know (even if Hux will probably tell him at some point anyway). His Force presence is relaxing ever-so-slightly, too; he leans back, closer to Ren’s chest. The sun through the viewscreen, beginning to melt into the jagged horizon of high rises, casts his skin in a ghostly glow. Ren rests his hands on Hux’s waist, the clipped edges of his fingernails lightly scraping the dents of Hux’s hipbones. They’re exactly the right size for this, fitting easier than a lightsaber in his palms—Hux is not a small man but his bones are almost birdlike (and Ren’s hands are oversized even for his own frame).

“Are you ever going to wash me?” Hux demands.

“You always say I do it wrong.”

“You have the capacity to learn.”

“You have the capacity to be a better teacher.”

Hux still hasn’t even made an attempt to reach for the soap. Ren leans back, pulling Hux with him. Hux could say (has said, on many occasions) that he has work to do, important conflicts to resolve, meetings in the middle of the night with holograms from other planets, budgets to balance, diplomats to manage. But this time he doesn’t say anything. He settles his head back against Ren’s shoulder and the silence is comfortable.

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this semi-written for like a year but didn't know how to finish it until this prompt reminded me it existed in the first place.
> 
> also im p sure i promised someone kylux in the bath at some point so if that is you then here it is, long overdue.


End file.
